


Papa

by phantisma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-28
Updated: 2007-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes home at the end of a long day and Mary has something to tell him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Papa

He smiled wearily as he trudged in the front door. She leaned against the frame of the kitchen doorway, arms crossed lightly as she smiled. “Long day?”

He nodded and hung his coat and then bent to pull his boots off. “Mack was out again. Damn back of his.”

“You hungry? Dinner’s almost ready.”

He nodded again and moved toward her, sliding his arms around her and pulling her into him. “You smell good.” And she did…the soft scent of her shampoo as he pressed lips to the top of her head and a vague scent of spices from whatever she was cooking.

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll get dinner on the table.”

John Winchester kissed his wife soundly, then sighed and took himself down the hall to the bathroom to clean the grease and dirt from his hands. He always washed before he left the garage, but his hands never came as clean as they did when Mary sent him to wash for supper.

He still hadn’t figured out how he’d gotten so lucky. Mary was…everything…his best friend, his lover…his companion. With her next to him he felt like there was nothing he couldn’t face. He scrubbed his hands in the sink, staring in the mirror at his face. It had changed in the short time they’d been married. It smiled more…and sometimes for no reason. The hard lines of the marine had softened.

He dried his hands and headed back to the kitchen of their small house. It really was little more than an in-laws cabin behind the house of his boss’s sister…a small bedroom with a kitchen and sitting room and not much else. It was cozy, and considering how tight things had been since he’d left the marines, it suited them. Sometimes he felt like he was bigger than the whole house, but Mary’s touch always seemed to bring him inside.

She looked up from the table with a smile and a wink and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Sit.”

“Yes ma’am.” He slid into his seat and reached for the bowl of pasta already on the table, eyeing the two candles she’d been lighting when he came in. “Candlelight? Am I forgetting something?”

She smiled again, though it’s meaning wasn’t clear. She set the bowl of sauce on the table and took her spot beside him, slipping one hand into his and squeezing briefly. “No, you aren’t. I just like it.”

He looked at her with a feeling she wasn’t being completely honest, but her expression was so sweetly mysterious he let it go. “So, Mack’s going to be out the next few days and I told McMillon I’d work a few extra hours. I figure we can use the money.”

Mary nodded. “Good. We certainly can use the money.”

John frowned at her. Normally she would argue that money wasn’t as important as being with her. Normally she would pout, even if she agreed. “Okay…what’s going on?”

She chewed her mouthful of pasta and looked up at him. “What?” she asked once she’d swallowed.

“I just said I’d take extra hours for the next few days.”

She nodded and reached for a piece of bread. “Yes, and I think it’s a good idea. In fact, I was going to mention that Millicent offered me a few hours a week at the diner.”

“I thought we decided that you weren’t going to work…so you could volunteer at the hospital with Jody.”

She nodded. “I know…but, we really do need the money.”

John put down his fork and crossed his arms. “Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

She chuckled and mimicked his pose. “Very funny. Eat your dinner.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She stood up and moved to the cupboard for a glass. “Want some milk?”

“Mary!”

“John!” She made a face at him and poured herself a glass of milk, then came back to the table. “I want to, okay? I want us to be okay.”

He was concerned now, his hand reaching out for hers. “Is something wrong, Mary? You’re starting to scare me.”

Her smile was soft, and her eyes glittered as she came to him, bringing his hand down to lay flat against her stomach. “Everything is fine, John. Everything is wonderful.”

There seemed to be deeper meaning in those words that didn’t quite reach him as he stared at his hand against the white of her shirt. Her hand caressed up his arm, then up into his hair. “Nothing to be scared of…Papa…” she whispered, leaning in to his ear.

He started as the meaning of the word sunk in, as he realized what she was saying. “Mary?”

She kissed the side of his face and pressed his hand against her tummy. “John…”

“You—I mean, are you—do you mean?”

She chuckled and stood back up. “I’m pregnant, John.”

“A baby?”

She laughed again and sat back down in her chair. “Unless I’m having puppies.”

“A baby.” John exhaled slowly. “A baby.”

His brain stopped there. A baby. Papa. Him. He wasn’t sure if he knew how…if he was capable. Then there was the notion of the money…they needed a bigger place, and a nursery with a crib and the doctors…and the idea of a tiny little body depending on him to keep it safe…it was overwhelming.

“John?” Her hand closed over his. “Is it okay? Are you okay?”

The smile that split his face nearly hurt…but he couldn’t have dimmed it if he wanted to. “A baby Mary! We’re going to be parents! How could that be anything but okay?”

He jumped up and reached for her, picking her up easily and spinning her around the kitchen. “God I love you.” His kiss was passionate and she returned it eagerly.

“I love you too.” She giggled as he continued dancing her around the room. “You’re going to be the most fabulous Papa.”

Slowly he stopped the spinning and let her down onto her own feet. “We’ll make it work, Mary.”

She leaned into him, her cheek to his chest. “I know.”

They moved back to the table. “I’ll talk to McMillon…and then you know Roberts has been trying to convince me to come work for him…maybe I can get more money out of him.”

“I told Millicent I’d take three shifts a week…at least until the baby comes.”

John frowned. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

She smiled and drank from her glass of milk. “I know…but if we’re going to make this work, we need some money set aside to buy a house. I want my kids to have a big yard and a tree swing, and—“

“Kids?” John asked quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded. “Of course, you want your son to be an only child?”

“Heaven forbid.”

“Eat your dinner, Papa.”


End file.
